Rob continues to be uncharacteristically flummoxed by the slow broadband at the house. It’s good in the village, but for some reason the speed drops off up on the cliffs. Mobile reception is sketchy at best too. And so far no amount of his money or ideas has been able to sort the problem.

‘Maybe you heard the sound again through the speakers,’ he continues. ‘Did you hear your own voices too?’

Did they? She often hears herself a few seconds after she’s spoken. Has she just been imagining everything?

‘You coming in?’

It’s Bex, standing at the pub door, pint glass in hand. She always drinks pints, has done ever since Kate’s known her. Kate nods, mouthing, ‘One sec.’ Bex notices she’s been crying and hesitates. Kate musters a smile and Bex returns inside.

‘I still want to come up,’ she says to Rob. ‘Tomorrow. I feel scared down here. A man tried to kill me and now he’s been shot dead. It’s not exactly reassuring.’

‘I know,’ he says. ‘I understand.’

She could take the train tonight, the sleeper service, or drive up, but she’s happy to wait until the morning. Bex is here, after all. Tomorrow she’ll be in London, where she can see Ajay, ask him about Capgras. And she can sort things out with Rob, enjoy being looked after. Pampered. Cherished. It’s what she needs right now.

‘Let me know when your train arrives at Paddington and I’ll meet you,’ he says.

She breathes in the warm summer air, feeling so much better already.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says, grateful for his understanding, ‘for going all funny on you.’

‘It’s OK. You can go funny on me any time. Sure you don’t want me to drive down tonight?’

‘It’s fine. Bex is here. I love you.’

‘I love you too. And, hey, bring your passport.’

‘My passport? Why?’

‘No promises, but maybe we can finally go to Brittany together.’

She’s about to reply when Mark comes out.

‘Better get in there quick,’ he says. ‘Your nice man Rob is buying another round.’

Her head starts to spin. For a moment, she thinks he means that Rob is actually in the pub, but then she remembers. After a beach clean, he usually puts enough money behind the bar for one round, but because of the distressing scene tonight, he’s been even more generous than usual.

‘That’s good of you,’ she says to Rob, who is still on the phone. ‘Buying everyone more drinks.’

‘The least I can do,’ he says. ‘The whole thing’s awful.’

‘I better go,’ she says. ‘Brittany sounds wonderful.’

She hasn’t been to France for years, not since she took Jake to Paris for his thirtieth birthday. And Rob is always talking about Brittany, how she must go there.

‘Saw you on Facebook this afternoon, by the way,’ Rob says. ‘Thought you’d—’